Tempore Bellum
by Ophium
Summary: All in fair in times of war. Set in a slightly AU version of Jus in Bello. Lilith arrives a little sooner to the police station and presents the Winchesters with an offer that they cannot refuse. Complete.


_All is fair in times of war..._

The first thought that crossed his mind had been '_oh, thank God they didn't arrive fifteen minutes ago_', because, really, it was bad enough seeing all of those town's people dead because of the invading demons (and fuck him if that line didn't get funnier and funnier every time it crossed Henricksen's mind); to add to all of that such a sweet looking child –any child- would be like adding salt to a bleeding tragedy.

Upon seeing the eyes of said sweet child turn white as bone, his second thought was '_we're all dead'_.

=-o)(o-=

Henricksen's introduction to the supernatural world had been rough, to say the least. Then again, he figured that few learned about the things that go bump in the night in a sensitive and fashionable form.

Still, he was sure that as soon as they had a few seconds to breathe and he wasn't fighting for his life and the lives of those inside that police station, the fact that his body had been hijacked by a column of black smoke and used to kill an innocent man - a damn fellow officer! - would hit him hard and true. He wasn't looking forward to that.

The fact that the last years of his career as an FBI agent had been wasted chasing after two guys who, as it turned out, probably did more good on a weekend than what he could managed in a whole year... it really wasn't aiding things one bit.

Hunting ghosts and monsters. Fighting demons. Who would've thunk?

Worst still was the fact that he was actually starting to like that Dean Winchester fellow. The man behaved like a brother in arms, someone who Henriksen would have been honored to have on his team.

Someone from whom Henricksen was ready to take orders, and had in fact done so without batting an eye, because he had seen those guys in action. They knew what they were doing.

And damn! They were good at what they did.

The idea that a few words in a dead language on a tape recorder would be enough to turn half a town from crazy, murderous lunatics into the quiet and law-obedient citizens that they once were would've seem demented even to the crazy.

And yet, somehow, it had worked.

When it was over, all of them beyond exhausted, Henricksen had watched the Winchesters slide down the wall, resting the same way as they had fought, side by side.

Victor's limbs were trembling as well. The rush of adrenaline from that short fight had left him feeling like he'd raced three marathons in a row and he wanted nothing more than to slide down a wall himself and maybe sleep for a week.

But there were civilians to deal with and, between a secretary in shock, a deputy looking lost amongst all the chaos and the two guys who were on the FBI's Most Wanted list, Henricksen figured it was up to him to take charge of sending all those people on their way.

Sort the wounded from the dead; sort the dead from the living. Figure out what to do with a dead boss.

By the time the little girl with the Sunday dress arrived, hand in hand with her nanny, Sam had whisked Dean away to one of the offices to –Victor suspected- force the stubborn man to lie down for a bit before he fell down.

"Excuse me. I'm looking for two boys. They're brothers," the little girl said, all sweetness and good manners, replying to Nancy's question of what she was doing there. "One's really tall and one's really cute?"

Nancy's laughed, spirit eager to return to normalcy. "What's your name, sweetie?"

The name Lilith that left the little girl's lips meant nothing to the FBI agent. Still, Henricksen had no need to look at her and see the way her blue eyes turned milky white; there was no need for the blast of energy that exited her hand and sent him, Nancy and the deputy flying against through empty space. He knew what she was.

And he knew for whom she had come.

=-o)(o-=

Sam had no idea what Henricksen was going to do about him and Dean. The FBI agent had, finally, turned around and stopped seeing him and his brother as monsters (being possessed, even for just a couple of minutes, will do that to a guy), but not before he had told his superiors that he had Sam and Dean Winchester in his custody.

Add in the fact that Henricksen's boss was now officially dead, after leaving his office with express intent to secure their transport, and Sam figured that they could be in deeper trouble now more than ever.

First order of business, however, was to deal with Dean's gunshot wound.

Nancy had done a fairly good job on it, but it had been little more than a patch-work, a cork to keep Dean up and operationally while they fended off Lilith's legion of demons.

Sam needed to probe the wound, see if the shot had truly been clean or if the bullet had left behind any fragments before exiting, add a couple of stitches to keep it from bleeding any more and all around fret and fuss until Dean started cussing at him and menacing corporal punishment. If it helped Dean get through the pain, Sam would take it in stride and keep at it until he was sure that his brother wouldn't die ahead of time because of something stupid like an infection.

So far, Dean was pliant in his hands... until Sam tried to push him to lie down. "Geesh... at least buy me dinner first, will ya?" Dean complained half-heartedly.

Still, Sam noticed, Dean didn't rise from where he sat. Despite what Dean tried to push others to believe, he sadly lacked the ability to shrug off a bullet wound like it was nothing but a splinter.

"Lemme take a look at that," Sam offered, ignoring Dean's glare.

"It's fine," Dean went on, stubbornly, even if Sam could see that it was anything but fine. Dean kept that arm tucked against his middle like it was the Holy Grail and his skin was pale, corner of the eyes tight with contained pain. "What we should be doing is taking advantage of the fact that Henricksen is busy and make ourselves scarce."

Dean was right, Sam knew that. But something told him that they had made an important ally that day and Sam didn't want to risk that by running off on the man. "He seemed genuinely interested in helping us, Dean," he said, easing Dean's jacket off.

As he suspected, all the gun shooting and bumping against hard walls had reopened the wound; it had bled enough to soak through the bandage that Nancy had tapped together and wet Dean's back shirt.

"What he has is a dead superior office to explain," Dean pointed out, once again swatting away Sam's hands as he tried to pull the collar of his shirt to the side to get a better look at the rest of the wound. "Once the buzz of finding out that monsters are real wears off, he'll realize that offering the two of us as consolation prize is the only way to save his career. And we'll back to be being screwed."

"Quite squirming, you frigging chi—"

Sam never had a chance to finish his jibe, nor had he a chance to see Dean's wound. There was a loud sound of crashing and muffled shouts echoing from the main area, enough to tell them that they were in trouble.

Sam and Dean exchanged a quick look, grabbed the shotguns that they had settled on the table and raced to the source of the racket.

At first glance, everything seemed exactly the same as they had left it a couple of minutes before. Except for the little girl in the middle of the overturned tables and littered floor.

Henricksen was sprawled over the main desk, the deputy was unconscious, a rag doll against the far wall and Nancy was nowhere to be seen.

"Sam," the little girl said with a big smile, looking at the tallest Winchester, "and Dean... I was hoping to find you boys here. You look every bit as good as advertised," she purred, even as her eyes turned white.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, confused. They'd seen demons with black eyes; with yellow eyes; they'd even seen demons with red eyes. The white version was a novelty that wasn't quite welcome as they did not know what sort of power it amounted.

The fact that she was a demon was not even in question. If there had been any misgivings in their minds about what the little girl was, the way their weapons flew from their hands like dried leaves at a flick of her wrist, cleared all remaining doubts.

"Aren't we a bit old for your tastes... Lilith?" Dean hissed, guessing which demon possessed the little girl. If he remembered his lore right, Lilith was famous for her taste for baby boys. As an appetizer.

And Ruby had, after all, told them just hours before who had put a prize on their heads.

Not waiting for an answer or confirmation on the demon's part, Dean made a lunge at her even before the vile sound of her name had died from his lips. He didn't get far.

The little girl flicked her hand again and Dean found himself flying backwards and landing heavily, flat against the brick wall, sprawled like a pinned butterfly.

Before Sam could react, he too was being pushed back, unbalanced until his legs hit wooden surface and he was forced to sit on the chair behind him or feel his legs break from the pressure. Try as they may, neither couldn't move an inch.

"Now, Sam," the little girl went on, disregarding the fact that everyone in that room was now under her control and had no choice but listen to her. "I came here to make you an offer. Quite a good one, if you ask me."

"No one's asking you anything, bitch!" Dean hissed from his corner.

Lilith paid him no attention. With graceful steps, like a ballerina dancing around the mess of furniture and bodies on the floor, she neared Sam and jumped on his lap. Sam recoiled at the proximity but there was no room for him to do much more than to tighten his lips and scowl to show his displeasure.

"Look around, Sam," the young girl said, earnest eyes taking in the room, her gaze wondering further than those walls. In to town. "All these people who managed to survive a demon attack... that's pretty neat! I bet you and your brother are feeling all goody-good about yourselves right now, aren't you?"

"Cut the crap and say what you wanna say," Sam spat at her, forcing himself not to see the sweet little girl, innocently sitting on his lap, and rather focus on the monster that hid underneath.

"Fine... straight to business then," Lilith said with a pout. "I'm tired of hearing all about the Winchesters brothers and how they would die for each other, go to Hell for each other, do anything for each other..." she said with a sideways look at Dean.

"I draw the line at hair braiding, if that's where you're going," Dean said pointedly, trying hard to look unfazed by Lilith's words.

She smiled sweetly at Dean before returning her white gaze to Sam. "I want you to kill Dean," Lilith declared, like she was ordering an ice cream flavor at the shop. "Or I kill everyone in this town, starting with these three here."

At the demon's ultimatum, Henriksen and the deputy, slowly rousing and still catching up on what was going on, looked at Dean. They had managed to survive impossible odds against a whole town of possessed people and now... this seemed unfair on so many levels that it was almost laughable.

Almost.

"Don't do it Sam," Henricksen felt the need to say. Of all the information he had on file about the Winchesters –most of which was now worth crap after learning the truth about what the Winchesters did for a living- there was one thing that Victor could still rely on: the fact that the brothers were close and would do just about anything for the one another; that each was the only person the other had on this God's Earth.

And yet... they had risked their lives to defend that police station; they had stood their ground to make sure that as many lives as possible were spared.

Not for one second did Henricksen believe that Sam would ever kill Dean, but the words needed to be heard never the less.

"You're fucking crazy," Dean let out in frustration. It wasn't enough that he had Ruby to deal with, trying to 'toughen up' Sam and convince him to murder virgins for the greater good... now Dean had to deal with psycho demon bitches with fratricidal ideas of grandeur?

"Dean... language," Lilith chided him. "Mind the children."

"I won't do it," Sam said, looking her straight in the eyes. "I won't play your sick games and I won't have my brother's blood on my hands. You can do whatever the hell you want, bitch."

"Fine," Lilith said, jumping to the floor. She looked in turn to each of her prisoners before stopping and staring at the deputy. Her smile was chilling.

The young man, scared shitless as he was, wet his pants when he found himself trapped under the stare of pure evilness.

It was the last thing he did before Lilith snapped two fingers and his heart exploded inside his chest.

"Damn you!" Henricksen howled, body tensing and fighting against the invisible bonds keeping him trapped.

Sam and Dean remained silent. They knew their demons. They knew Lilith's threat hadn't been empty. Still, deep down, they had hoped that she would have played her hand long enough for them to come up with a plan, gloat for time enough before anyone died.

A quiet sob reached their ears and everyone turned their eyes from the dead deputy to the ceiling. Nancy, eyes bulging from her face in sheer terror, was spread above them.

Her mouth opened and shut without producing a word, fear too deep and real to allow her the ability to speak or make a sound. Her tears were silent as well as they fell from her eyes like hot rain.

"Sam, I'm waiting for an answer here," the little girl announced, sounding puzzled with the delay. She seemed to have no doubts that Sam would do as she said.

"Why are you doing this? Why won't you just kill us and be done with it?" Sam asked, furious, frustrated with his inability to move from that chair and _do something_.

"Because I was bored," Lilith replied, looking up at the terrified face of Nancy. "Oh well—"

"Wait!" Dean yelled from his place against the wall, fists clenched by his side, his face as livid as Sam's. "Just… wait a goddamn minute."

Lilith turned away from Nancy, giving Dean a curious look instead. "Wait for what exactly, Dean?" she asked, nearing the trapped hunter.

Pinned several inches above the floor, the little girl could barely reach Dean's chest; and yet, he could feel her finger, caressing the edges of his gunshot wound. "One of Azazel's daughters used to boast all about the time she had possessed Sam Winchester and driven a thumb inside Dean Winchester's bloody chest," Lilith said with a gluttonous glint in her eyes. "It sounded like fun!"

"Lemme talk to Sam," Dean hissed the words between his lips, mouth tight at the increasing pain in his shoulder. "You… you don't need to kill anyone else."

=-o)(o-=

Sam was looking intently at his brother, some sort of private and wordless communication going on between the two of them.

Henricksen clamped his lips shut. He would not let Dean sacrifice himself for him any more than he had allowed Nancy to do it before. But he wanted to believe that there was something more at work here, something more than Dean giving up.

"Talk then," Lilith said, turning her back on Dean and going back to the centre of the room, right below Nancy. "But talk fast."

=-o)(o-=

"I'm not giving in to that bitch's demands, Dean," Sam cut off, not even allowing Dean to wedge in a single word. "And don't even start on the '_I'm dead anyway_' crap because we both know that won't work."

"Not really a choice here," Dean pointed out once he caught his breath. His shoulder felt like it was on fire. "Enough people died because of us already… not letting any one else take the bullet for me, Sam. We have to be _smart_ about this," he said, looking straight at his brother.

"You really, really should listen to your older brother, Sammy," Lilith chimed in, one finger twirling around her hair.

Sam looked at Nancy again. Despite her bravery of before when she had offered her life for the town's people lives, her terrified eyes now begged him to stop this, to make her torment end. Dean was right, they had to be smart about this, before someone else died.

"How do we know you won't just kill everyone once I agree to do what you want?" Sam asked. His eyes were roaming the whole room, searching for something that he could use once he got free.

Because Sam knew that was Dean's intent. His brother was neither suicidal nor a fool to believe in demons' promises.

Bound to the chair as he was, Sam couldn't kill anything. Lilith would have to allow him some freedom of movement to do what she wanted and Sam would need to take advantage of that to make his move.

"Call it a deal," Lilith said, mischievous look aimed at Dean. "We can even seal it with a kiss, if you want to."

Sam shuddered, not for the first time thinking about the poor child that was trapped with that demon inside her head. Sam knew all too well how violated one felt after something like that. "I'll pass, thanks."

"So, are you saying no, Sam?" Lilith pressed, menacing.

Sam looked at his brother. Earlier, Dean had been the one to come up with the plan that had saved their lives and the lives of the town's possessed people. Sam had been ready to go with Ruby's idea of working the spell and killing an innocent person to save a thousand.

It was his turn to do the same now. There were several devil's traps scattered throughout the police station, and all he needed to do was press play on the tape recorder one more time and the exorcism he'd recorded would start flowing again. All Sam needed was a few seconds of distraction on Lilith's part.

"I'll do it," Sam said quietly.

"Wonderful!" Lilith let out, hands clapping like she'd won the biggest stuffed animal at the fair.

"Sam, Dean... you guys are being fools!" Henriksen exploded from his spot near the desk. "She'll just end up ki—"

The FBI agent's words vanished with a look from Lilith. It took Victor a couple of seconds to realize that, no matter how high he tried to voice his disagreement, nothing was coming out.

"Now... what shall we use..." Lilith went on as if nothing had interrupted her. Her tiny finger tapped the edge of her nose, as she pondered the best way to end Dean's life. "I know! I heard you are quite proficient with knives, Sam... I want you to slit his throat open," she decided with a smile. "And make it slow... I wanna see the light slowly leaving his eyes."

Sam gulped, even as he felt his arms and legs free from the impossible pressure that was keeping him trapped.

"Here," Lilith said, extending a small knife towards Sam. "Use mine."

Sam looked at the offer. The blade was dulled and barely sharp enough to cut butter. Lilith wanted Dean to suffer, that much was evident.

Sam took a couple of cautious steps in the demon's direction, his left hand stealthily moving to his back pocket. The flask of holy water that he had absently stuffed there when the fight had ended would come in handy as the diversion he and Dean so badly needed.

=-o)(o-=

They were a natural born team. Henricksen could see that now more than ever. If the field agents in his department had even a third of the synchronicity and almost telepathic skills that the Winchester brothers shared, Henricksen was sure that their success rate would be ten times what it was now.

It was eerily... beautiful. That was the only word that the FBI man could think of to describe the way they moved as one.

Pure thought turned to effective action.

Sam neared the demon slowly, his face betraying nothing of what was going on inside his head. To anyone watching, he looked like a man minutes away from being forced to kill his own brother.

The flask that appeared out of nowhere, materializing in Sam's hand, was only a blur of silver as he wiped it across the air, spreading holy water as it went.

Lilith screamed, steam rising from her skin. Henricksen, bonds holding him weakened, surged to his feet even as Nancy crashed to the floor with a whimper that was barely heard over the booming sound of a gun's report.

Victor spun toward the sound and spotted Dean, slowly advancing on Lilith, smoking shotgun in his hands and firing shot after shot of rock salt at the screaming little girl. Henricksen hadn't even seen him move from the wall to where he was now.

Moving in perfect tandem actions, Dean and Sam closed in on Lilith, backing her away with purpose towards a specific wall. One quick look at the ground was all it took for Victor to realize that the direction, like every action that the Winchesters seemed to take, wasn't random.

He could see the red edges of the painted sigil on the floor. A devil's trap.

Moving in to grab another weapon and aid the Winchesters in their plan, Henricksen missed when the tide turned.

One minute Lilith was screaming, the next she was laughing. The sound was petrifying. Water dripped from her face and the little girl's pretty dress was peppered with salt pellets and she was laughing.

"You idiots! You really thought something so basic would work on something like me?"

This time, the demon didn't stop at just pushing Sam and Dean against the wall and holding them there; this time, it was easy to see the pressure that she was applying around their necks. Both Winchesters turning red, the color deepening with each second as she moved near them. "And now look what you made me do..."

Behind him, Henricksen could hear the soundless screams of pain coming from poor Nancy.

Despite the fact that their air supply was running short, Sam and Dean's eyes moved there as well. It was impossible not to.

Nancy was being skinned alive right in front of them; whatever Lilith had done to her throat wouldn't even allow the writhing woman to scream her pain away. Still, she tried her best.

When Sam and Dean finally passed out from lack of oxygen, Nancy was still alive and screaming soundlessly.

Henricksen had no other choice but to watch until the end as Lilith took her time killing the poor secretary.

=-o)(o-=

Dean's groan was better than an alarm clock where it came to Sam. He was awake and his eyes zeroed in on his brother even before Sam realized that he had been asleep.

Or rather, unconscious.

They were back in a cell, the same one as they'd been before, judging from the blood splatter on the wall behind the cot.

"He has a fever," Henricksen supplied from the other side of the cell. His voice, apparently, had been returned while their freedom was taken. The agent didn't move from where he sat, leaning against the bars, looking ashen.

"What happened?" Sam asked, moving towards Dean. One hand at the back of Dean's neck told him that the FBI man was right. Dean was too hot.

"She killed Nancy," Henricksen said, his tone dry and detached. His eyes, however, told a different story. "Tortured her to death, actually," he corrected.

"Jesus!" Sam let out, one hand sweeping through his hair in a nervous gesture.

"What happened? Why didn't any of that stuff work?" Henricksen demanded. He sounded frustrated to find out that the experts in the matter hadn't known enough to defeat this particular monster.

Sam's brows furrowed. It was hard to tell if it was due to Henricksen's question or what he saw when he peeled Dean's bandage away from his shoulder. The wound looked red and puffy, the edges lined with dried blood that looked black in the poor lighting of the cell. "I don't know," Sam finally answered. "We came across a couple of demons that were powerful enough to not be affect by religious symbols before... we just thought that..." Sam bit his lip, looking around for something clean to wipe the blood away from Dean's wound and have a better look. "We've never met one as strong as Lilith."

If Henricksen's hair weren't shaved off his head, he would be pulling it right about then. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," Sam confessed. "I really don't know."

"Can't you call that other demon, the blond woman that was yelling at you before?" Henricksen suggested.

Sam shook his head. "She's probably long gone now... and we don't have any of the stuff that I would need to summon her back. Not here, in this cell."

"So, what? We just sit here and wait for her to skin us like she did with Nancy?"

Sam cringed at the reminder.

"Or," Dean offered quietly before gripping the side of the cot and struggling to an upright position. "You kill me and pray that that bitch keeps her word."

There was no point in trying to keep him down now that Dean had his eyes open. Sam laced his hands around Dean's arms, pulling him up and settling him against the wall. "You look like shit, man," he let out.

"Thank you," Dean offered with a tight smile. "It would be a waste to feel like shit and not look the part. I'm methodical like that."

"You can't be serious," Henricksen pointed out.

"I'm dead serious," Dean couldn't help to add with a smirk.

"You're an idiot," Sam said in annoyance. "And you can forget about the whole sacrifice crap... we'll find a way out of this."

Dean threw a look at the FBI man, probably wishing they had some privacy for this. Victor certainly felt like an intruder; a voyeur, listening in on what was to be the final moments between the two brothers.

"What other way, Sam?" Dean asked, hissing in pain as he shifted his back against the wall. The place where his shoulder touched left a red smudge against the light colored paint. "Nothing we've thrown at her seems to be working; the Colt is gone and Ruby won't part with her damn knife for all the gold in the world... we have nothing here, Sam. Just this."

"She won't keep her word," Sam said, his voice breaking, his eyes strangely shinning. "You know she won't keep her word."

"We can't afford to lose the chance that she might," Dean countered, his voice all but a whisper. Pleading.

Sam was shaking his head. "Dean... I c—I can't do that. I can't be the one to send you to H—"

"We don't have a choice here," Dean cut out before Sam could say anything more.

Henricksen was looking from one brother to the other, despite his best intentions to blend into the concrete and steel. Curiosity, however, had gotten the better of him and he couldn't help but be drawn into their conversation, one obviously layered with years of pain and regret, love, sacrifice and hidden meanings.

"Ah! You're awake," a childish voice said over the sound of clapping. "Goodie!"

When her hands parted, Henricksen was flung against one of the walls of the cell while Dean was pushed up, rising to stand against the other wall. Sam jumped to his feet, murderous eyes facing the demon.

"Now, Sam... one of them is going to start bleeding in the next thirty seconds," she said very quietly. "Your choice on who that is."

The knife, the same knife as before, was extended in Sam's direction.

Sam's feet were glued to the floor. He knew what he should do, he knew what Dean wanted him to do, but he could not make himself move the three inches that would take him closer to killing Dean.

On the opposite side of the cell, Henricksen gasped.

A dark, red stain was growing in the middle of the FBI agent's chest. The man looked down, his face at once surprised and terrified at what was happening.

Sam snatched the knife from Lilith's hand. "Stop it!" he blared. "Just stop it... I'll do it."

Henricksen's breathing was coming fast and shallowly, his eyes locked with Sam's. "Don—" he tried to say, blood bubbling from his mouth and drowning the rest of his words.

Sam's attention, however, was on Dean. There was nothing he could do for the FBI man for now. And the look on Dean's eyes... it was terrifying to watch.

He looked so... resigned.

"It's okay, Sam," Dean whispered. "You're not doing this... she is," he reminded his brother.

Sam wasn't even aware of the tears falling down until his vision blurred behind a curtain of water.

This was not fair!

His promise had been to save Dean from going to Hell, not sending him over ahead of time.

Deep inside, Sam's hatred for this new demon, bent on taking over Azazel's position in Hell, grew to proportions Sam had never experienced before.

He would kill Dean, and eventually the guilt and pain would kill him too. But not before he had Lilith's head on a plate.

"Remember... nice and slow," Lilith purred. "Or the next ones to bleed will be the five hundred people in this town."

Demented plans raced through Sam's head in the few seconds that it took him to reach Dean. Sam thought about grabbing the knife and making a lunge at Lilith, even though he knew that the simple stainless steel weapon would only tickle the demon; he though of thrusting the blade through his own chest, even though the only thing that would achieve was Sam's death ahead of everyone else: he thought of being selfish, of saying no and write off the people of that town as casualties of war.

Sam wished for an earthquake, violent enough to break the walls of that cell and set him and Dean free, even though Sam knew that the reach of a demon was vast and they could have never out run Lilith; he wished for an asteroid to hit, a tornado, a flood, a frigging chasm opening beneath his feet and killing them all before he was forced to do this.

None of that happened.

Sam grabbed Dean's shoulder, the one that wasn't burning up and infected, and held the knife against his brother's neck.

"I'm sorry, Dean... I am so sor—"

Dean's green eyes, bright with fever, met his squarely. "It's okay, Sammy."

Sam closed his eyes, tears squeezing past lids and tumbling down his cheek like silver snakes, weaving a trail of salt and pain in their wake. He pressed the blade in and felt skin breaking under his touch.

The contained lightening bolt of energy that they'd come to recognize as the sound of a demon being killed inside its meat suit seemed too good to be true. Sam opened his eyes, finding Dean's gaze on him, both trying to confirm that they had heard the same thing and neither was imagining it.

Ruby, wild hair and clothes covered in the blood and guts of those she'd had killed to reach them, burst through the room like the tornado that Sam had wished for.

"You dare defy me?" Lilith screamed. In her current form, childish as it was, she looked like a brat, throwing a tantrum. Her eyes, however, were on Ruby's knife, the blade red with the blood of the demon guards that Lilith had posted outside. "I will kill you!"

"You can try," Ruby defied, placing herself between the enraged demon and the door to the Winchesters' cell, knife tightly gripped in her hands. "Do your best."

Lilith's white eyes were like ivory daggers, looking at her prey, escaping through her fingers. Then, without a word, the little girl threw her head back, a long column of black smoke erupting from her mouth and disappearing towards the ceiling.

Three bodies fell to the floor, heavy thuds of boneless puppets with their strings severed.

With the threat gone, Sam threw the knife in his hands to the floor like its touch was poisonous. Dean was staring at him from the floor, not quite believing that they were still alive.

Dean's hand moved sluggishly to his neck, brushing against the broken skin. He stared at his blood covered fingers in a daze.

"Help Henricksen," Dean rasped, finally finding his voice.

The FBI man hadn't moved from where he'd fallen, sitting against the bars, head at an awkward angle.

Sam moved in a daze, sharing a look with Ruby. "Check the kid."

"You're welcome, by the way," Ruby snarled even as she did what Sam asked. "Frigging ingrates."

Sam knew what he would find even before his two fingers touched Henricksen's neck. The puddle of blood surrounding the man was too large for anything else.

For months, the FBI man had been the only boogieman that the Winchesters had, if not exactly feared, at least been cautious about. And now that they had finally managed to convince Henricksen that they were not the bad guys, now that they had found kindred spirit and ally in the lawman...

"Kid's dead," Ruby announced without preambles. "Been dead for quite some time, from the looks of her."

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Henricksen didn't make it either," he finally said.

There was no reaction from Dean's part. Sam didn't need to see one. He knew exactly how Dean felt. He could feel his brother's sadness and pain as keenly as his own.

"Lilith isn't gonna be gone forever, you know?" Ruby reminded them, stepping over the little girl's body unceremoniously and opening the cell's door. "And when she comes back, this whole fuckfeast will be nothing compared to what she'll do."

The explosion had been Ruby's idea. Leave no evidence behind, take advantage of the mess to make Sam and Dean Winchester disappear from the land of the living and get the FBI off their backs.

Sam and Dean were too numb to tell her otherwise.

=-o)(o-=

"Next time, do as I tell you and I guarantee you that the body count will be far less than this," Ruby let out in between bites of licorice as they listened the local news on the TV. Sam and Dean Winchester weren't named, but everyone seemed to assume that their bodies were amongst the rest of the wreckage that had been left at the police station.

Ruby was sitting in the room's unoccupied bed, frowning at Sam as he placed a fresh wet cloth over Dean's forehead. "Are you even listening here, Sam?" she asked, jumping to her feet in annoyance. "I saved your ass back there this time, but there will always be a next time, so I need you to frigging listen to the words coming out of my frigging mouth, get it?"

"Tone it down, I don't want you waking Dean up," Sam hissed.

Ruby stomped away, biting on her red sweet.

"I hear you, okay?" Sam went on. "And I see now that killing Nancy in the first place would've spared a lot of suffering and lives. But," Sam added, seeing Ruby's pleased look at his words, "Dean's right; we can't go around killing people just because it's the best strategy. We can't act like the enemy or else there will be no point in fighting."

Ruby puffed, throwing her hair back with a dismissive gesture. She walked over to the bed where Dean lay. The sheets underneath his form were dark with sweat. The small cut in his neck was vividly red against the flush of his skin. "Well, just remember those priceless high values the next time you have a knife on Dean's neck and I'm not there to help."

Sam gulped. He knew all to well how close they'd come to complete disaster this time. "Why did you come back? How did you know?"

Ruby gave him a gentle smile. "I'm always watching over you, Sammy," she said before disappearing into thin air.

Sam's skin was filled with goosebumps. Ruby had used the exact same words that Dean was always telling him.

He feared that, in a couple of short months, Ruby would be the only one around to save them.

Shrugging those dark thoughts off his mind, Sam picked up the dry cloth from Dean's forehead and sunk it in cold water again.

Once the antibiotics kicked in, Dean would be fine. A couple more scars on his body, a few more lives weighing down his conscience, but fine. They always were.

They'd been lucky this time. While everyone else in that police station had died, they had been lucky to have Ruby on their side.

She was right. This time, it had been too close.

=-o)(o-=

"Did it work as planned?" Lilith asked from her new meat-suite, a chubby little blonde girl with curls that fell past her waist. "I have more important things to do than help you in these theatrics whenever you need help doing your job."

The equally blonde demon in front of her smiled widely. "It worked perfectly," Ruby offered. "Once Dean is out of the way, Sam will trust me implicitly."

The end

Many thanks to Jackfan2 for her beta-work.


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